


Love in the Week

by aseriesofolafevents



Series: Bowtruckles and Broken People [6]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Unhappy Ending, this is kind of sad why did I write this now im crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aseriesofolafevents/pseuds/aseriesofolafevents
Summary: In which Theseus can't decide when he loves her the most.ORThe one with a snapshot into Leta and Theseus' daily life together.
Relationships: Leta Lestrange/Theseus Scamander, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Series: Bowtruckles and Broken People [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1192009
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Love in the Week

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim, without plan or measure, when I should be studying but there you go. I don't know it made me sad but in the sick twisted writer way where you write something so sad it makes you happy....please let me know im not the only one? Comments and Kudos are appreciated as always.

He loved her most on a Monday.

It was decided. On Mondays he had to wake up earlier than usual, before she did and so he had time to stop and watch her, sleeping with such peace that he felt that she couldn’t be real, that she had to be some type of beast, because no human could be as radiant and perfect as she was, even in sleep. Sometimes she would open her eyes, just slightly and something which vaguely resembled a grin would spread across her smooth face, crinkling her half opened eyes and exposing the dimples she so much tried to hide. His heart would do that strange flip which took his breath away, a sensation which was foreign in his body until he met her, although not altogether uncomfortable he had decided.

That was why he loved her most on a Monday.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

No, scratch that. It was Tuesday.

Tuesday was when he loved her most because that was when he got to see her at work, in the Ministry, for lunch. Tuesday brought the coincidental fateful lunch where their schedules overan each others, meaning he had just enough time to race down to Travers’ department and share a freshly bought ham sandwich. Bought of course, because neither of them could cook for Merlin, managing to destroy even the simple of delicacies, of which ham sandwiches are the most simple. Stolen moments like this gave him more happiness then he’d had in the last two and a half decades of his life, he’d admit it.

Watching her wipe away the lone sandwich crumbs from the corners of her mouth reminded him of why he loved her most on a Tuesday.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Or maybe it was Wednesday.

Wednesday was the evening where Travers would never fail to keep her late, for whatever reason and he was reminded of his undying affection for her during her absence, where he would cook (or try to) for himself and sit, listening to the radio by himself, in an unfamiliar silence, glancing at the door every minute or so in the hopes that she would soon walk through, looking exhausted and relieved to be back with him, as she plopped down on his lap, kissing his cheek. 

He missed her enough on Wednesday to realise how much he loved her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

But then Thursday would roll about.

Thursday would leave him questioning every other day because how could he not love her most on a Thursday, when they’d stop by Newt’s to say hello (and secretly check that he was eating enough and not falling into his work despite his promises). On Thursdays he’d see her with the beasts, watching as they ran around her enthusiastically and as her eyes widened at the sight of Newt’s newest creature, reaching out a hand hesitantly to stroke, pet or feed it. He didn’t understand the beasts himself, nor the love and care of both Newt and Leta seemed to have for them but seeing her like this, so absorbed and content made his heart swell in ways he wasn’t sure it knew how to.

Thursdays were the days when he saw her gentle nurturing side and that was why he loved her most on a Thursday.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

He loved her most on a Friday.

When the week was over and they were both exhausted, choosing this night not to even dare cook and put themselves through the torment and eventual smoke, instead choosing fish and chips, which she’d devour readily, starving from a day of running around Travers, who he had decided, put much too much strain on her. On Fridays they’d open a bottle of mead and finish it together, eventually stumbling to bed and whispering “I love yous” between kisses.

And even though he might be a little intoxicated by the mead and her kisses, he wasn’t biased when he said he loved her most on a Friday.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

But it had to be Saturday.

On Saturdays they’d go into London and go dancing with friends, ordering rounds of giggle water and dancing to their feet felt like they would drop off. She could dance and he really really couldn’t but she’d always make him look graceful, something he was thankful for. 

And he’d watch as she tipped her head back as he span her, caught in the middle of an exhilarated laugh and think that all other days were pointless, that he’d like to live in Saturday forever, in a continuous dance as she pressed against him, giggling into his chest.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Forget all the above, Sunday was the day.

Sundays bought family, his of course because she had none and what little she did have they never spoke of, let alone seen. On Sundays they would find themselves at Scamander Manor, sharing a Sunday roast with Newt and his parents as the seasons rolled by outside. As she laughed with his father, spoke intently with his mother and shared friendly smiles at Newt across the table, reminiscing fond Hogwarts stories he would realise how exuberantly lucky he was to have her, the biggest piece in the puzzle that was his life, slotting in and creating the full, final product.

It was hard not to love her most on Sundays.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

And when she was gone he didn’t care what day of the week it was or whether she was sleeping or eating or laughing or dancing, he loved her all the same and wanted her in a way he had never wanted anything. It didn’t matter if it was a Tuesday or Friday or Sunday, he needed her in the way he needed air and water and food. He thought he was dying and he must be dying because his heart was breaking and disintegrating and tearing apart every fibre of his being with it. 

She’d died on a Tuesday, when she should have been eating ham sandwiches with him, stealing quick kisses when no one was looking and trying to decide what she was (not) going to cook that evening. 

But she had died on a Tuesday and he’d seen it and he’d loved her, not because it was a Tuesday but because she was Leta and he loved her whenever, always.

**Author's Note:**

> Im back with a new FB fic and its been a while and I was going to post on Christmas AND Boxing Day because I've written two christmassy fics (one in a happy universe where no one dies and one set in the first Christmas after COG and yes that one includes Queenie and Credence and I know shocker because I literally haven't included them in Bowtruckles and Broken people yet and I need to I know.) Butttttt now its not Christmas and I don't know whether to post or save for next year lol he he.  
> Oh yh happy new year!


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